


Guilt and Grief

by Fenchurch87



Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hawke Family (Dragon Age) Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sleeptalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: Marian and Leandra Hawke finally start to heal following their flight from Lothering. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.
Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1086066
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Guilt and Grief

Leandra pulled the blankets further over her head, but the thin wool did nothing to drown out Gamlen's snores. She supposed she should be grateful that the house had two bedrooms; at least there was a wall between her and the worst of the noise. Poor Carver didn't even have that small luxury.

In her bed on the other side of the room, Marian tossed and turned, muttering incoherently. Leandra suppressed a sigh. It seemed her sleep was going to be attacked on two fronts tonight. She had thought Marian had mostly grown out of her childhood habit of sleep talking, but perhaps it had just lain dormant, waiting to re-emerge at a time of stress.

Marian thrashed again, more violently this time, throwing the blankets to the floor. “No,” she mumbled, “no, no, no! Bethany!”

Leandra froze. She shouldn't be hearing this, she didn't want to be hearing this, but she couldn't move. She was back in Lothering, reliving that terrible moment alongside her daughter.

“Bethany, no!” Marian cried out in desperation. “Come back! No! You _bastard!_ ” A series of obscenities followed, as she kicked and punched the mattress.

“Bethy?” The quiet anguish in that one word was worse than the rage that had come before. “Please wake up. Please. Oh Maker, no.” A strangled sob escaped her throat. “I'm sorry, Bethy,” she whispered. Leandra risked a glance and saw that she had curled herself up into a tight ball. “I'm so sorry,” she continued. And then, in a broken voice, “I'm sorry, Mother.”

 _You have failed as a daughter._ The memory of her own words hit Leandra like a slap across the face. Marian was hurting, and she had never once comforted her. She had done nothing but pile guilt and blame on her daughter's still young shoulders, crushing them almost to breaking point.

She had failed as a mother.

She needed to put this right, if she still could. How much damage had she caused? How much strain could she put on the fragile bond that lay between them before it snapped entirely?

She slipped out of bed and padded silently across the cold stone floor. Marian's bed creaked slightly as she perched on the edge and slid an arm across her back.

“It's alright,” she murmured in the most soothing voice she could muster; it had been so long since she had done this. “My poor, brave girl. My darling girl. It's alright. I'm here.”

“Mother?” Marian stirred and scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “What–”

“I heard you talking in your sleep.”

“Oh no.” Marian sat up with a groan. “What was I saying? I hope I didn't wake you.”

“Shhh,” Leandra whispered. “It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway.” She paused, unsure of what to say next. Perhaps she should just get it over with. “You were talking about Bethany.”

Marian gasped, and she took a deep, calming breath before continuing.

“I'm sorry,” she began. “I'm sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean any of it. I just–” She swallowed. “I was upset, and angry, and I didn't know what to do. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. None of this was your fault, Marian. It was mine.”

One of Marian's hands came to rest on hers. “That's not true, Mother.”

“It feels like it is.” Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, and she brushed them away. “I just keep thinking there's something I could have done. It's killing me. I... I remember that awful creature reaching down, and... Eighteen years of loving and feeding and raising and... and that was it.”

“We should be blaming the darkspawn,” Marian remarked softly. “Not ourselves.”

“The ogre would have been happy with any prey. It was my fault it was Bethany.” She felt the familiar sting of tears again, but she didn't fight them this time. “I miss her so much.”

“I miss her too, Mother.”

Marian wrapped her arms around her, and they held each other tightly in the darkness. Still grieving, still hurting, but united at last.


End file.
